


A Rather Eventful Year

by politicalpastimes



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalpastimes/pseuds/politicalpastimes
Summary: The Bush Campaign, 2000.Vivienne Richards has just kickstarted her career as a journalist with The Washington Post. The political situation in the US is heating up, Bill Clinton's time as President is coming to an end, and the new candidates are raring to get their place in The White House. The Bush campaign advertised for journalists to follow along the campaign and report, and the young woman leapt at the chance.Will travelling on the campaign trail with George W. Bush change her perspective on things? Can a year with the prospective winner have an impact on her life?
Relationships: George W. Bush / OC
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	1. The Deep End

“For my part, I’m running, and I’m running hard. I know that this race will be competitive. I know the other candidates are good and talented people. And I know I’m late. But now that the Texas legislative session is over, I’m taking my front porch campaign to every front porch in this state. I will tell people exactly what I told you here today. Face to face. Eye to eye. And I cannot wait.”

————

As soon as Vivienne heard the Governor George W. Bush was stepping into the primary presidential race, she was ready to pack her bags and join the travelling press corps. She had not long graduated from the University of Washington and started her job with The Washington Post as a political journalist - but the prospect of living through the action of an election was invigorating.. exciting.. new! After many long phone calls with correspondents on the campaign end, and multiple phone calls and meetings with her boss, Vivienne was set. 

Her journey was just beginning, and by June 14th, she was sat in the airport amongst the other reporters, with a suitcase filled with all weather clothes, but mostly her reporting gear - dictaphones, tapes, notepads.. the list practically went on forever. Her goal was to chronicle the unfolding events, large and small with the belief that writing history shouldn’t be left only to loyal staffers and government officials. It was a big dream for someone so naive, so unprepared, but the young woman was ready to take the bull by the horns and seize the opportunities that came her way. There were others like her here, milling around in the airport gate, some on their phones to their editors, some scribbling notes down with such intensity that she was surprised that the pen hadn’t yet ripped through the paper, some enjoying a hot cup of coffee in the darkness of the early morning.

“First time?” A low voice suddenly spoke beside her. It pulled Viv from her thoughts, her eyes turning from the intense scribbling of a young man’s pen to a pair of auburn eyes before her. Blonde brows tugged downward as she allowed a short laugh to escape her lips, readjusting herself in the rather uncomfortable airport chair so that she could face this stranger properly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She laughed weakly, confusion riddling her mind. Didn’t he have something else to do rather than bother her? “First time on a campaign trail- I can see it in your face.. you guys are always the easiest to pick out from the crowd.” The man pushed small, circular spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose and flashed a smile at Vivienne. “You see, the others always like to make themselves look busy.. they think it makes them seem experienced, but in reality they’re just as nervous as the rest of us.” 

“I- I’m not..” Vivienne interjected, glancing around the room to see the picture in which the man had just painted with his words. It was true, the other reporters looked as if they were all trying to impress one another with how busy they could look. 

“Not nervous? Sure you are. I was nervous on my first campaign too.. especially when I knew I had to meet the candidate.. whew!” He made a gesture with his hand, raising it to his neck and dragging it across comically. “I remember asking Clinton who he was.” A wry laugh escaped his lips, before he shook his head. Vivienne also laughed, but it seemed more uncertain rather than humoured. “Oh- I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m David, I work for the Financial Times.” 

That would explain the accent.. he was British. 

“David. Nice to meet you - I’m Vivienne.” 

“That’s my grandmother’s name.” David beamed at her. Unsure of what to say, Vivienne just smiled politely and slowly turned her gaze back to the plane that was sat just outside of the glass wall. It was a rather large plane, which was probably needed for the amount of journalists and reporters here.. there must have been a hundred at the very least. “Anyway, hope you like flying.. you’ll be on that plane at least twice a day.” David’s finger pointed at the jet outside, catching Viv’s attention once again. “My advice to you is get a seat in front of the wing.. you won’t feel the movement as much.”

This man didn't stop talking, did he? Part of her wanted to find the seat at the very back of the plane so that she didn't have to sit next to him and tolerate his overbearing enthusiasm for talking to strangers. The other part of her didn't want to cut herself off from other reporters, as she understood what she could gain from befriending them - different perspectives to write from, different opinions, hell, maybe she could find similarities with them and even make a few friends along the way. 

"...that over there is Jonathon Griffiths.. I'd steer clear of him if I were you.. miserable bastard. Hates his job, only does it for the money. I mean, how can you be a reporter if you're not passionate?" David shook his head and sank back in his seat, before an announcement over the tannoy piqued everyone's attention. 

"Could the passengers for Flight 4245B please have their passes and tickets to hand as the plane is now ready to board." 

"That's us-" David unzipped the duffle bag which he had left by his feet and retrieved a passport with a ticket poking out of the end. "Ready?" 

Where was her passport? Viv patted down her blazer pockets only to find them empty, so she hastily reached into the small pocket on the side of her suitcase. 

"Erm.. hang on a minute."

The other reporters began to flock toward the gate, their tickets being scanned. One by one they began to file into the tunnel that lead to the plane. 

“I can’t find my passport..” 

“Found it-“ David bent down and scooped the navy booklet from the floor before smoothly standing back to his usual height.

“Oh, thanks..” With a little shame, Vivienne stood up and took it from his outstretched palm before reaching for the handle of her suitcase.

“I’ll catch you on the plane.” He said simply, before going to join the group of reporters. Brilliant first impression, eh Viv?

———— 

The plane smelled like old fabric and stale coffee. 

The interior aptly resembled the stench as Vivienne squeezed past the other reporters pushing their bags into the overhead lockers and shook coats from their bodies. 

"Viv! Over here-" David attempted to stand from his seat, only to bump his head on the overhead panel, causing his face to twist into one of embarrassment and pain. A smirk covered the young woman's lips as she stepped toward him, briefly apologising as she brushed past someone who had already sat down and stuck their leg into the walkway. 

"Here, let me get that for you." David stepped back out into the aisle and took Viv's suitcase for her, quickly lifting it up and into the locker. 

"Anything else that needs to go up?" 

"No- thank you." He returned to his seat with a smile, and gestured toward the empty one beside him.

"To save you sitting next to Griffiths.." He joked, a smile spreading over his lips. His nose crinkled, the small circular glasses sliding down the end of his nose. Vivienne quickly sat down when someone behind her huffed impatiently, and she glanced over at her seat-mate. 

"These guys don't have much patience, do they?" 

"None of them do.. you have to watch out for that. They're like piranhas - only in it for themselves and eager to get the scoop first. My one main piece of advice is watch your back around people like this." 

A frown covered her face as she glanced around the plane. Balding men, important looking women, all busying themselves with something or other. Yes.. she could see what he meant - they were waiting for their big break. 

"How can I trust you then?" Viv quipped, a teasing grin on her lips as she reached for the seatbelt buckle to fasten herself in. 

"You can't." David replied quickly, returning the grin as he pulled out the other half of Viv's buckle from beneath him.

———— 

It had been four days since Vivienne had left home to join the campaign trail and she had already received gravely bad news. “Okay Mom.. look after yourself. Love you too. Alright, I’ll call you in the morning before we take off.” 

Vivienne returned the phone to the hook and slumped against the wall beside it with a short sigh. Thankfully, the bar was relatively empty that evening, and nobody notable was there to see her tired eyes and drained body. Her father had passed away the evening she had left, but her mother insisted that she not come home as her job was more important - it was what he would have wanted for her. Viv wasn’t overly close to her father, he was mostly absent throughout her childhood as he worked with a cargo shipment company and spent his workdays on shipment flights to make sure that the stock arrived in one piece so that he could sign the contracts before loading the more cargo onto the next flight. Still, she loved him like any daughter would and cherished the small amounts of time they spent together. She last saw him a few weeks before she left for her trip, and he had been recovering a recent heart attack in hospital. 

Viv found the energy to push herself away from the wall and make it over to the bar, where a bartender was quietly polishing glasses and replacing them onto the shelves after what had been a busy shift a few hours earlier. It was pushing into the later side of the night, around 11pm, and he wasn’t expecting many more customers. The one perk about staying in hotels that were paid for by the campaign was that everything was readily available whenever you needed it - and quite frankly, she needed a strong drink. 

Placing herself down on a barstool, she thumbed at the old oak counter and eyed up the lengthy selection of glass bottles on the shelves before her. Wine.. no.. gin.. no… 

“Can I getcha anything Miss?” The young man behind the bar asked, turning to face her as he smoothed a white cloth around the inside of a freshly washed glass. “I-..” She frowned softly, still contemplating what to have. “I think I need a minute to decide.” 

“No problem, let me know when you’re ready.” He hummed softly, turning back around to place the now dry glass on the shelf. 

“’Scuse me, this seat taken?” 

“No.. go ahead.” Viv propped her head into her hands and let out a soft sigh, her mind clouded. She wanted to have been there for her father, but it was too late. It was beginning to dawn on her that she would never see him again, and she couldn’t even remember if she told him that she loved him. 

“Someone’s got the blues. Say, penny for your thoughts?” The voice continued, followed by a faint smell of aftershave that tickled at her nose. Not in the slightest mood to be sweet-talked, Vivienne lifted her head from her hands with a scowl planted onto her face, only to find a rather familiar one looking back at her. “On second thought, it might take two pennies..” He laughed softly, resting his elbow on the counter, allowing his temple to rest on a balled fist. “O-Oh I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude- I-“

“Hey, it’s not the first time someone’s been blunt with me in a bar before. Whatcha drinking?” 

“I-“

Was she imagining this, or was Governor Bush sat before her?

“Bartender? Can I get two whisky’s on the rocks please? The uh, the Johnnie Walker if you’ve got any.”

“Of course.” 

“I-I don’t…”

The man raised a brow, a hesitant smirk settling on his lips. 

“Why are you talking to me?”

“Woah woah, hey now! I’m just making polite conversation - am I not allowed to?”

“Of course but.. me, of all people?”

“Aint nobody else down here, just you. I was only coming down for a neat drink before tomorrow.

”Tomorrow.. tomorrow.. of course, Iowa. Vivienne glanced over her shoulder and found the bar empty, the only things occupying the tables around where napkins and polished cutlery. 

“Your drinks sir, on the house.” The young bartender beamed over at Bush, before quickly turning around to continue polishing his glasses. “On the house? Heck, if I knew that running for president would get me free whisky I might’ve just done it sooner.” The silver hair man laughed, reaching for the two glasses. He set his own before him, and pushed the other toward Vivienne with two fingers. 

“Go on, drink up. You look like you need it.”

“That’s an understatement..” Viv muttered, eagerly reaching for the glass and taking a quick mouthful. He watched on in a state of amusement and intrigue at the young woman. He hadn’t yet received a welcome like this from anybody.. the others seemed to beg and grovel for his attention whereas this fine young specimen seemed to be more aloof, distanced. 

“So are ya going to tell me what’s going on up there then, hmm?” He took his own glass in his hands, swirling the golden liquid around in the glass before lifting it to rest on his bottom lip, not yet taking a sip. Was George W. Bush really sat there drinking with her? Or was she simply imagining it in a state of delusion from the lack of sleep and the grief riddled days she had been having.

“To put it simply, Mr. Bush, my father passed.” 

Bush’s expression dropped into a more serious one, a note of sympathy tugging his brows downward.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that."

“Don’t be.. it’s not like it could have been prevented.” 

The Governor blinked a few times before taking a short sip of the whisky. 

“It’s just strange.. you know - the thought that he’s not here anymore.”

“Sure, sure.. I know what you mean.”

“And I just wish I could have said goodbye properly.” She turned to face the man once again, a glassy look in her eyes.

“Hey now, don’t you cry.” Reaching into the inside of his blazer pocket, George retrieved a navy blue handkerchief. He then took her hand in his own and prised her fingers open, placing the material into her palm. “I know it aint easy on you, I really do. You probably think I’m some old fool but I just know he loved you right from the bottom of his heart. I just know it. C’mon, look at me.” Vivienne’s bottom lip trembled as she looked over at George, her gut twisted as a wave of guilt rushed over her. She felt guilty for letting it out, for bringing the burden of her problems onto someone else’s shoulders. Why couldn’t she have just gone to bed, hidden it away from everyone, not drawn attention to herself. One of Bush’s hands came to rest on her shoulder as the other guided her hand up to her face, gently dabbing away the tears from her eyes before they could fall. “Chin up, girl. He wouldn’t want you to be sad now, would he?” Weakly, Viv shook her head and feigned a smile. She managed a weak “no..” before taking in a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry, Governor.. I really am.”

“I don’t want no apologies from you, d’you hear me? Don’t you say sorry for feeling the way you do.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before withdrawing from the touch. “Come on now, get some more of that down you and let’s talk about something else.”Vivienne took a few more deep breaths to compose herself, drying her eyes once more before reaching for the glass and finishing it in two short mouthfuls. She then turned to him with a sigh, feeling a prickle burning on her cheeks as they flushed a light pink. How embarrassing to cry in front of a presidential candidate. She offered the handkerchief back with a weak smile, only for George to quickly shake his head.

“You keep that. You need it a lot more than I do.” He told her, pushing her hand back toward her before reaching for his glass once again. “So.. lets start with something simple. What’s your name?”

“It’s uh, Vivienne.”

“UhVivienne.. that’s new.” Bush teased, waggling his brows playfully in an attempt to cheer her up. 

“No- no,” The young woman allowed a laugh to fall from her lips, a genuine smile threatening to pull at her lips. “Vivienne.”

“Vivienne.. very pretty. Suits you.” Her cheeks burned a little more, and she was desperately hoping that he couldn’t see. 

“What’s yours then?” 

“My what?”

“Your name, of course.” Vivienne teased, still clutching at his handkerchief like it was the only thing holding the tears in. George’s face dropped in mock shock, his eyes widening. 

“Well excuse me, UhVivienne! I’ll have that handkerchief back then!” He laughed, finishing off his own glass of whisky before he grinned at her. 

Viv also laughed, the smile refusing to leave her face. 

“Say, aren’t you one of those reporters?”

“Yes.. you're stuck with me for the next year unfortunately-"

“Firstly, it's not unfortunate.. it's very fortunate and I'm glad you're with us. Secondly, a year? Damn, when you put it like that.. I’m not sure if I have a year’s worth of handkerchiefs."

She scoffed lightly, shaking her head, blonde hair falling onto her cheeks as she did so. “I promise not to take anymore. I’ll take good care of this one.”

“I sure hope you do, it’s my favourite.”

There was a pause of silence between them where they simply looked at one another. Was he being serious? Surely he wouldn’t give her his favourite handkerchief so haphazardly like that. 

“Noted.. Mr Bush. Now I should probably be getting to bed.. early flight.”

“Sure, sure. Do you want me to walk you up?” 

“Oh, no no.. I don’t want to be any bother.”

“It’s not a bother, please. I insist.”

————

Vivienne spent what felt like hours lying awake in her room, staring at the darkened ceiling, replaying the same scene over and over again in her head. It had felt like a fever dream, something oddly surreal about it all. In one hand was the handkerchief from the Governor, the other hand resting on her stomach, rising and falling with the soft breaths that escaped her parted lips. She wasn’t sure if she had embarrassed herself in front of him, or whether he had seen it as an opportunity to show a more caring side to his usual comedic and headstrong side that was portrayed in the news. Either way, she could not stop thinking about it.. thinking about the way he watched her as they sat in burning silence for those few seconds. Her stomach flipped as she recalled the expression on his face, unable to pinpoint what he was conveying. 

She didn’t want to think about it - she wanted to stop thinking all together and just fall asleep so that she get some form of rest before the early flight in the morning. Goodness knows if that would happen though. 


	2. And The Snow Keeps Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Iowa to New Hampshire, the travelling press corps never stops working... even in the wintery blizzards of January.

The alarm clock buzzed incessantly at 6:35am, rousing Vivienne from a restless sleep. It was going to be a damned long day and she already felt exhausted. With a groan, she reached over and pressed down the button to stop the alarm before pushing herself out from beneath the duvet. The air in the room was chilly, a draft passed through from the darkened window and fluttered the curtains. The wooden floor came as a shock to her feet, and with a little hesitation she stood and padded through to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror was unforgiving - tired eyes, pale face, dishevelled hair. Not wanting to stare back at the face before her, Viv pushed the cold tap on and ran her hands under the water and splashed a little onto her face to wash the grogginess away - it didn’t work of course, but it was worth a shot. A quick steamy shower and brushing her teeth ended the short episode in the bathroom. The sun had still not risen when she returned from her room, only dampening spirits further. Her mind was racing with everything - her work, her father, her mother, the funeral. She wanted to shut it all up and forget about things for just a minute, but there was no hope of that. 6:45am was her cue to dress and appear presentable before packing her suitcase up for the next hotel on the trip. ————  
The press corps seemed to huddle outside as they waited for the coach to arrive, collectively cold and tired. The Nebraskan weather was unforgiving; snow whipped down from the dark sky, carried by a bitingly cold wind. 

“You would think that they would ask us to come outside when the coach is here, no?” David scoffed sarcastically, nursing a steaming cup of black coffee. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose, and most of his face was covered with the fur on the hood of his parka jacket. Vivienne only smiled sympathetically, hands buried deep into her pockets, chin tucked into the roll of her black turtleneck. She was too cold to think, to speak, to move - and spent the passing minutes praying for the Greyhound bus to pull into the parking lot. It emerged from the side of the building, and a collective sigh of relief escaped everyone’s lips.

“They oughta make the Governor travel like this with us.. seeing as he pledges to be a man of the people, eh?” The woman beside Viv laughed softly, catching her attention. The woman was stood by Griffiths, who seemed to convey no other emotion aside from disdain.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight,” Viv replied, sparing her from the embarrassment of the joke that humoured nobody. “He would probably spend the entire journey complaining that the chairs are too uncomfortable-“ The other woman allowed a smirk to cover her lips as she bowed her head. 

“Don’t let him hear you say that - might hurt his ego.” She joked, before pausing for a moment. “I don’t believe I’ve spoken to you before, have I?” 

“No, I don’t think you have. I’m Viv- Vivienne.” 

“Nancy” The other woman replied quickly as she pulled the handle up on her suitcase. “You need a seatmate?” Vivienne glanced at David, who seemed preoccupied with not spilling his coffee as he hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. She then turned her gaze back to Nancy, smiling gratefully. 

“Alright.. I want the window seat though.” Vivienne also reached for the handle of her suitcase as everybody began to form a line for boarding the coach. 

“All yours,” Nancy grinned, gesturing for Viv to step ahead in the line.

————

The journey to the airport was filled with pleasant conversation about childhood memories, stories about bad dates, wardrobe malfunctions, previous work experiences and more. Despite being rival journalists, the pair got on rather well. It transpired that Nancy had lead a vastly different life to Vivienne. She grew up on a cattle ranch in Maverick County and lived a sheltered as a child, only deciding to go to college when she realised she wanted to experience a different aspect of life - one more exciting and eventful than whatever she would have had if she had stayed in her sleepy hometown. Nancy was a good 5 years older - or more -than Vivienne, and had already been through one divorce. It was after the divorce that she decided she wanted to dabble in journalism, and found it to be more fulfilling than her 9-5 office job. She seemed to have a genuine heart, but a very blunt personality - to put it simply, if anybody were to seek the brutal honesty of a situation, they would be sent to Nancy Kable.

Vivienne had never spent more than two years in the same state when she was growing up. Her father’s line of work meant that he had to keep changing his base location depending on what cargo shipments he was working with, and because of this she never had a stable group of friends, or a close relationship to her extended family. Being the junior to Nancy, she had yet to experience her first husband, sleepy towns, career changes. Perhaps not the career change, however, as Viv was loving it so far. She was given the opportunity to travel and write about the current political climate, which was her very own slice of heaven. 

“Long story short honey, don’t trust a man as far as you can throw him.” Nancy let out a sigh, shaking her head. 

“Noted.. I haven’t had much luck with men. Perhaps it’s for the best though, I’ve only heard horror stories from those around me.” Viv scoffed, fingers smoothing down the creases in her jacket that was now draped across her lap. “I don’t think I’m ready for it yet either - of course I wouldn’t deny the opportunity if it arose, but I want to see a little more of the world first.” 

“Oh I hear ya. I regret settling down so soon - hell, if I hadn’t done it then I wouldn’t be here though.. so I’m grateful in a horrible sort of way.”

“Hardly horrible-“ 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving at the Central Nebraska Regional Airport in approximately five minutes - please have everything ready for your departure.” Came the voice of the driver over the announcement system. All at once, there was a rustle of waterproof coats and a shuffling of feet as people reached beneath their feet to pick up notepads and newspapers. 

“God I hope that Iowa is just a fraction warmer than Nebraska.. just a fraction.” Nancy muttered as she retrieved her notepad from the pocket on the chair in front.

“You can hope, but I hate to tell you that it’s going to be even colder than here.” Vivienne laughed softly, shifting in her seat. 

———— 

“Great to have you on board with us today, Governor.” Stephen, the man who organised the press corps and made sure that they were running to schedule, took Bush’s hand firmly in his own and gave it a hearty shake. “Pleasure’s mine, old boy. Nice to see ya again.” He seemed to croon when he spoke to the younger man, his free hand coming to pat him on the shoulder. Vivienne recalled David telling her that Stephen had been one of the main players in Bush’s campaign for Governor in 1994, and that he was considered a close friend now. It certainly seemed that way as she conspicuously watched from her seat, hoping that nobody would catch her paying a little too much attention. There was just something about his presence that drew heed from those around. He oozed charisma, charm, wit and humour. Admittedly it was difficult to not fall under his spell. Her eyes fell back to the newspaper in her lap as he turned away from Stephen and began to make his way down the plane, greeting a handful of journalists as he did so. She tried to busy herself with skimming over the words, yet none caught her attention - she was still focused on the approaching Governor. 

'Boland Hall fire: Three students died and 54 were injured in a dormitory fire at Seton Hall University. Two students were charged with murder and arson for allegedly setting the fire.' The headlines read, printed in large, bold black letters. 'The fire began around 4:30 AM on January 19, 2000, when most…' 

“Well fancy seeing you here!” A voice interrupted the narrative in Vivienne’s head, her head snapping upward swiftly. “Vivienne, right?”

“Spot on,” A smile graced the young woman’s lips, faltering slightly when she found the Governor sliding into the seat beside her. “George, if I’m not mistaken..” She joked, biting down on her bottom lip as she feigned a moment of thought. 

“Nice of you to remember-“ He replied quickly, the trademark grin tugging on his lips, revealing a set of near perfect white teeth. “You’re looking well.”

“Thanks, I certainly don’t feel it.” Viv quipped, turning her eyes away from the searing blue to carefully fold the newspaper in her lap to rest her hands atop of it.

There was a pause, before George spoke up again as he folded one leg over the other. “Ready for your first real rally then?”

“What, the other rallies were just fake ones?” She teased, arching a brow as she returned her gaze to his own, only to catch him rolling his eyes. 

“You know that’s not what I meant-“ He chuckled, reaching to adjust the red tie hanging from his neck. 

“So.. what did you mean then?” 

“You know you’ve got a lot of cheek for a girl your age, hmm?” His tone appeared to turn more serious as he narrowed his eyes at her, head drooping to the side a little as he stared her down. Viv’s smile dropped, and a nervous flush began to crawl onto her face. 

“It’s admirable. Must come with the job though.. throwing you lot onto coaches and planes at ungodly hours and expecting you to listen to every word I say so that you can write about it.. it’d take it’s toll on me too.” 

When his tone lightened, she could tell that he didn’t have a mature bone in his body. He was like a teasing schoolboy, full of get-go and smugness. 

“That obvious, huh?”

“Sure is.. I can see the tedium in your eyes from here.”

The engines of the plane began to fire up, catching the young woman’s attention. She briefly glanced around at the other reporters, some of them looking back at her, perhaps wondering why the Governor had chosen to sit with her of all people. 

“How uh- how’s your mother?” George then asked, voice becoming more genuine and sympathetic, rather than his usual jesting ways. 

“Oh I- didn’t manage to call her this morning. She’s.. she’s managing in a weird way. Doesn’t seem to have hit her yet if I’m honest.” 

“Mmm.. it can be like that sometimes. I remember when my father lost his own.” He took a moment to contemplate it, before clearing his throat. “You’re doing okay?”

“Only as good as I can be — in the politest way possible, I don’t want your sympathies Governor. I’m alright. Besides, this is a presidential campaign, not a shrink appointment.” She laughed, despite it being wry, tired. 

“Coulda fooled me,” He remarked, settling back in his chair as the plane began to speed up along the runway. “The amount of questions I get asked I may as well be in a shrink’s office.”

Viv scoffed, shaking her head with a small smile as her eyes turned to the window, watching the ground beneath become further and further away as the plane lifted into the air. 

“What network do you work for then?” The questions just kept rolling at Viv, and she began to question whether or not she was running for the presidential candidacy or not. “

I’m with the Washington Post.. although I’m thinking about a transfer to NBC News - I think it’d be a little more lively. Working on the journalism end of course - I don’t think broadcasting is the right avenue.” A small laugh left her lips as she turned to look back at the Governor, who had propped his chin into his palm, elbow resting on the armrest between them. “I’d rather give them the information than stand in front of a camera and talk.”

“I think you’d make a damned fine broadcaster - you just gotta be a bit more personable.”

“More personable, Governor?”

“Sure..” He trailed off, smirking at Viv before another reporter caught his attention. It was Griffiths, who stood expectantly in the aisle as he watched Bush.

“Morning, Mr. Bush. Can I get your opinion on how you think the Iowa caucuses are going to go for you?” There was a moment of pause with Bush, he readjusted himself in his chair and looked up at the man before him, not wanting to seem aloof or avoidant from questioning. It was, after all, his job. 

“Sure you can.” The Governor cleared his throat, taking in the details of the man’s face. Griffiths bore steel framed square glasses, a thick white moustache and goatee, and a peppering of white hairs above an almost bald head. His posture was slouched, hand outstretched with a dictaphone. 

“I’m feelin’ good about Iowa. We’ve got two caucuses lined up, and despite the harshness of the weather, I know there will be a warm welcome. I love the people of Iowa. Beautiful state, great people. Look- I am running because our country must be prosperous, but prosperity must have a purpose,” he said. “The purpose of prosperity is to make sure that the American dream touches every heart. The purpose of prosperity is to make sure no one is left out and no one is left behind. I know they’ve been feelin’ a little left behind lately, but I’m going to change that. I’m going to change it for every state in the United States of America.” 

Politicians seemed to have a true knack for answering questions without actually giving an answer that related to the question, yet people scooped it up as if it were gold dust and held it close to their hearts. Viv listened closely, taking a mental note of the words tumbling from the Governor’s mouth so that she could jot them down later. She had a question poised for him which she would ask later at the rally. Not only did this show determination, but other reporters would have to take note of her name and workplace to write into their own summaries of the event.. gaining Vivienne a little notoriety amongst the other reporters and broadcasting companies. 

“Excellent, Mr. Bush. Really great - thank you.” Bush bowed his head, cocking it slightly to the side as he did so to show his gratitude.

“My pleasure-“ Just as Griffiths turned away, Bush caught his attention again. “What’s your name, old boy?”

“Jonathon Griffiths, Governor.”

“Good to know. Thank you.” Griffiths returned to his seat, looking rather smug. The other reporters were beginning to realise that they could also do the same - as did Bush - and he became a little fidgety. 

“Looks like they’re waiting to get their talons in already, eh?” He remarked playfully, nudging her with his elbow. “

“Certainly does, Governor. Go on, give ‘em hell.” Viv told him, nudging him back in the same boyish manner with a smirk on her face. “Go and promise the American dream to all of them.” His eyes narrowed as he listened to her, only for a brow to arch. “I see through it, Governor. I just wonder how long it’ll be before I start saying the speech along with you in my head.” 

George scoffed, a grin fighting it’s way onto his lips. “You’re different, Miss Richards.” He brought a hand up to cover the side of his mouth, leaning in a little closer to the blonde. Viv found herself instinctively leaning closer too, turning her ear to his mouth somewhat. “Not like the others-“

“Oh I know.. but don’t worry Governor, I’ll make sure to include that in my article.. 'Mr.. Bush.. thinks.. all.. reporters.. are.. the.. same...” She whispered back, bouncing her brows once before relaxing against her chair once again. Bush muttered incoherently under his breath, the same grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. As he rose from his seat, he turned and gave a final look to Viv, casting a wink at her before he advanced to the front of the plane to answer more burning questions.

———— 

The plane hit the tarmac at 8:45am, perfectly to schedule. There hadn’t been any delays yet, even with the weather against them. The journey from the airport to the first caucus took another hour, in which Vivienne spent trying to catch a little more sleep than she had gained in the restless night. The other reporters were busy grilling Governor Bush, who was stood at the front of the coach, supporting himself on the two chairs beside him, talking into outstretched dictaphones. The press corps would be gaining another handful of followers at this event - photographers mostly - which would accompany them for the rest of the year. She kept her eyes closed and listened to the distant voice of the candidate as her head rested against the almost solid headrest on her seat.

————

Now things were starting to get eventful. Daylight had broken, and as everyone departed the campaign bus, they were hit by yet more icy winds and bouts of snow. David had caught up to Vivienne again, and the two of them were heading into the hall which had been prepared for the caucus. There was loud music playing from within, a hum of chatter and excitement passed from the open doors and into the outside air. It was enough to pique Viv’s anticipation - and to say the very least - she was excited.

“This— is not what I thought— reporting would be!” David’s voice sounded laboured in the harsh winds, and he had to almost shout for Vivienne to hear him, despite them being huddled together as they walked along the icy path toward the Dubuque Town Hall. He managed a weak laugh before losing his footing on the ground and slipping forward a little, but she managed to catch him by the fabric on the arm of his jacket and hoist him back up. Everyone was struggling to walk, talk, and keep warm, but the reward of a warm hall and coffee was promising enough for them to hurry along in their pack and keep spirits (somewhat) high. 

The Governor had left the journalists as they arrived in the hall, who were now all finding a table or a perch in which they could settle and set up their equipment ready for the speeches to begin. He had been whisked away by his security and makeup team to prep for the event, and by Karl Rove, the chief strategist for the Bush campaign. It would be around half an hour before he was ready to give his speech, which gave Vivienne plenty of time to get a coffee and scout the hall for avid Bush supporters to give their word on his campaign to add to the report she would publish tonight. 

“The cold weather not put you off?” Vivienne asked with a smile as she held a small dictaphone up to a member of the crowd. 

“No cold, wind, rain or snow is gonna put me off! This is my first ever caucus - couldn’t pass on that opportunity, could I?” A young man was stood before her, still bearing the features of a teenager - braces, bright eyes, scruffy hair. He was wrapped up in a sports jersey and a scarf from the Iowa Hawkeyes, which were the Iowa University football team. He was clutching at a ‘Iowa For Bush’ sign, handprinted in blue and red, with small stars and the American flag drawn at the bottom. 

“So why Bush? Anything in particular you like about him?” The young boy smirked, raising a brow. “Well he’s not McCain, is he? That’s enough reason I think.” He sniggered, turning to his friend who nodded in agreement. 

The other boy was dressed in the same attire, holding a small camcorder, already recording. The lens was panning around at the crowds, and he was zooming in on individuals and making quiet remarks behind the camera.

“Alright boys, thank you. Do you mind if I take your names?”

“Sure- I’m Trent.”

“Patrick.”

“Nice to meet you both. Thanks for the chat — excited to hear the Governor speak?” Vivenne asked finally, clicking the pause button on the dictaphone and tucking it into her pocket.

“You bet, ’s gonna be great.” Trent nodded, glancing around before looking back at Vivienne. “Never spoken to a journalist before - you guys seem pretty neat.”

'Pretty neat.'

“You don’t know the half of it, kid.” Vivienne laughed, before giving the pair a final nod. 

“Right then, thanks again - hope everything goes well for you both in the future.”

“Thanks ma’am.”

The pair filed back into the crowd of supporters, who were beginning to make up little chants to hot up the growing atmosphere. ‘We love Bush’ seemed to be the most prevalent. It was a nice atmosphere - everyone shared a commonality of purpose, everyone agreed. There was no tension, no hatred, no anger, just a group of excited citizens waiting to see their messiah. And he came, just as expected, drawing a roar of cheers and whoops from the crowd. The lights were dimmed a little, spotlights focused on the wooden platform that George Bush was now stood on. He gave a confident wave to everyone, pointing and grinning at a select few who were waving signs around enthusiastically. 

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen!” Everyone cheered again, and Viv shook her head with a short smirk, tearing her eyes away from a brief moment to pull open her notepad. She had taken a post at the sideline by the stage and perched on a metal stool, poised for the action. David wasn’t too far away, and was already scribbling down notes as Bush began to speak.

“I'm coming here today to tell you this: I'm running for President of the United States,” He stated, what has for most Republicans become the obvious as he stood on a before them with the US and Iowa flags as his backdrop. “There is no turning back. And I intend to be the next President of the United States.” Another roar erupted from the crowds.As the speech continued, he pledged to cut taxes, rebuild the military and set a foreign policy - most notably to Viv - “with a touch of iron.” He vowed to insist on results in education and blow the whistle on failure so “no child will be left behind.” Overall, the crowds seemed to be swept in to his promises and pledges, and things were looking hopeful for the candidate. Even Vivienne, whose job was to be analytical and critical, found little to no loopholes in his argument. He was arguing the American Dream that everyone longed for, and if he could make it a reality then America was in for some of the best 8 years it had seen in a while. 

Bush’s schedule factored in time for him to meet and mingle with the crowds, giving him press opportunities to shake the hands of followers and give out autographs to those who wanted it. McCain’s schedule did not - so the Governor was quickly becoming a man of the people, for the people. Viv finished off her notes and added a few memos for later before closing up her notebook and heading toward the pack of reporters and journalists who were discussing what they had heard and what they thought of it. David was looking particularly pleased with himself as he spoke to a small handful of the other journalists, a big grin plastered on his face - the kind that a young man would have after asking out his high-school sweetheart. As she approached them, the conversation became more tangible.

“-speech was enough to get anybody riled up. Hell, if I were a Democrat supporter and heard that..” He snapped his fingers, cocking his head to the side. “Instant switch. I mean, Bush looks Clinton look like a lost cause, don’t you think?”

“You’re supposed to be unbiased, David-“ Griffiths interrupted quickly, giving the other man a disapproving frown.

“I am, I am. Besides, I can’t vote for the guy, I’m just a little British boy.” He teased, folding his arms across his chest in a playfully defensive way, fingertips clutching at his pen. 

“Uh oh, I smell trouble.” Nancy joked as she stepped into the conversation between the two of them. “Jon, I hope you’re not bullying little Dave again, are you?” 

The older man gave a bashful smile, and it was clear in an instant that he had a soft spot for Ms. Kable. 

“No ma’am, just a bit of friendly fire.” He remarked quietly, scratching at the goatee upon his chin. 

“Good, that’s what I like to hear— Oh, Viv!” Nancy quickly slipped between the two men and appeared beside the blonde. “Feels like it’s been ages since I saw you this morning. How are you doing?” 

“Surprisingly okay,” Vivienne remarked, offering a kind smile to the other woman - who quickly smiled back. “What did you think of the speech then?”

“Oh God, well to put it simply, I think Iowa is going to be a big win in his books.” 

Viv nodded in agreement, thumbing at her notepad a little. “Definitely. He just has a way with people that McCain doesn’t seem to have.” A quick glance over her shoulder showed Bush with his arms draped over the two boys she had spoken to earlier, who were beaming from ear to ear as one of their other friends took a photograph of the three together. He then stepped back, and shook all of their hands. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Viv knew it was the same cheesy statement he gave everyone, thanking them for coming, and telling them that he hopes that he has their full confidence. 

“Couldn’t agree more, even if we’re supposed to be unbiased.” Nancy giggled, winked, and nudged Viv’s arm. “He seems to like you, don’t you think?”The remark caught her off guard.

“I- wha.. what do you mean?”

“Oh, come off of it! He spent ages with you on the plane earlier and you thought nobody would twig it?”

“I-..” She felt her cheeks threatening to stain pink again. 

“Everyone twigged it, girl.” Nancy smirked, narrowing her eyes at the blonde. 

Well shit.

“I don’t think he does - I think he’s trying to butter everyone up equally to get good coverage in the media.” Vivienne replied quickly, clearing her throat and forcing her gaze over to David so that she could detract a little attention away from herself, hoping that Nancy too would turn around so that she didn’t have to see the growing embarrassment on her face. 

“Sure.. sure.” Nancy hummed in a teasingly suspicious voice. “Well girl, I’ll let you know when he comes to sit and chat with me on the plane…”

————

Lunchtime came much faster than expected when the press corps were on their second flight of the day. Turkey sandwiches all round, which looked rather meek and unfulfilling, but it was all that they were getting until the day was over and dinner was on the menu at whatever hotel they would be staying at. 

“I’m not even sure that’s real meat,” David muttered as he picked his sandwich apart. “It’s like.. some sort of white meat.” He raised the parted sandwich to his nose and took a sniff, before turning to Vivienne with a look of confusion plastered upon his face. “It doesn’t smell like anything - look.” He then put it under Viv’s nose, who laughed and pushed his hand away. 

“C’mon David, it’s all you’re getting by the looks of it.” She murmured into her bite, before her own face twisted into a frown as she chewed the questionable sandwich. “Actually, I think you’re right.” 

The pair could only smirk at each other as Stephen the organiser walked past and eyed them both up. “Do I hear trash talk about my sandwiches?” He asked jokingly, turning his head to shake at them as he continued on to the front of the plane. “I’ll have you know that they are on special request from the Governor. Bologna tomorrow..” And like that, Stephen disappeared behind the divider to where Bush was sat with Karl Rove and a few other organisers. 

When Vivienne looked back at David, he looked frankly saddened by the poor food choices. 

“Well, if the Governor wants tasteless turkey sandwiches then he can have them, but I want something a little more fulfilling. Tell me, does New Hampshire have a speciality dish? You know, like Texas and their sweet tea?”

“I mean, they’re pretty big on seafood - and they have these amazing cider donuts, but I don’t think you’ll get them in the hotel.. who knows, you could adventure into the city later and try to locate some.” “Anything sounds better than this turkey sandwich..”

————

The caucus at New Hampshire was much smaller, but the same energy was still generated. It was crazy - people practically fell at his feet, bewitched by his pledges and promises. They loved him, and strangely, he knew how to accommodate himself to vastly different people. Finally, the day had drawn to an end and everybody could relax - for the most part - at the hotel. Vivienne had taken it upon herself to find a quiet spot in the bar with her laptop and cell phone so that she could write up her daily report on how the two events had gone. She even managed to squeeze in a phone call with her boss, who sounded more sympathetic than anything. Part of her wished that she could entirely forget her father’s passing, block out all of the sympathy, and get on with life as usual. She wanted to remember him for his life, not be reminded of his absence. Still, she knew that he was proud of her for keeping her chin up and continuing, even when she didn’t want to. ‘That’s my girl, Viv.’ He would say, patting her on the back and pulling her against him. There was a melancholy happiness in her heart when she thought about him. Had it not been for his years of hard work and determination, she never could’ve gone to college and landed this job - she owed it all to him. 

Report finished, Viv packed her laptop back into it’s bag and decided to head up to her room to call her mother before she had her dinner. 

The other journalists were sat at tables - some in groups, chatting over a beer - and some like her, working alone. Nancy was sat with Griffiths and David, and a few other reporters that she hadn’t met yet, and was given a nod of acknowledgement as she passed out of the bar and toward the lift.

‘Lifts take forever..’ She thought to herself as she keyed in her mother’s number to her cell phone, before the ‘ding!’ signalled the lifts arrival. 

Viv stepped in without looking up, but noticed a pair of boots just over the edge of the antenna of her phone. 

“Anybody would think you’re following me around..” Came a familiar, toying voice. Her gut twisted a little as she looked up, a wonky smile settling on her lips. 

“People could say the same about you, Governor.”

“Going up?”

“Mmhm.”

Bush reached forward to the numbers on the side of the lift wall, before glancing down at Vivienne. 

“Floor?” 

“Seven.”

“Me too - convenient then.” He didn’t need to push any buttons, as the ‘7’ was already glowing. 

“You gave some good speeches earlier.. looks like you’re on a roll.” Vivienne said quietly as she adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder.

“Why thank you,” George replied, his eyes crinkling a little when he smiled. “You had better write that into your report.”

“Report is all finished, Governor.. but yes, I did mention it if you must know.” Viv said coyly, eyeing him up for a moment before he met her gaze, drawing her eyes instantly to the floor. 

“Much appreciated.. have you eaten yet?”

“Uh- no, not yet. I’m going to call my mother first and then I’ll probably head out and look for some place to eat - the menu looks a little.. disappointing.” 

“God, I thought it was just me,” Bush gave a sigh of relief, pushing one hand into his pocket as the elevator came to a stop. “I haven’t seen anything so.. so..” 

“Boring?”

“Yes, boring - since... well, since Clinton’s last speech.” The Governor teased, gesturing with his free hand for Vivienne to step out before he did so. 

“Say, you and that David fellow seem rather close.. do I smell a hint of romance evolving?” He taunted, stepping out behind her. Viv stopped dead in her tracks, and George almost fell into her. His hand landed on her back to catch himself, and her whole body felt as if it set alight. God, what was this?

“Me and David? Never.. never in a million years.” She murmured quietly, narrowing her eyes at the Governor, who looked rather taken aback. 

“Aw, c’mon Vivienne. No need to be harsh - give the boy a chance.”

“Nuh uh, no thanks.” She scoffed, continuing walking but at a slower pace, and hadn’t even realised it yet. 

“Why not? He’s perfectly respectful, got a nice lil’ accent, sweet, caring - what more could you want?” 

“He’s really not my kind—““Ohhh, I see how it is. Boyfriend back home?”

“Nope.”

“Hm.”

There was a pause as he trailed a step or two behind Vivienne, cautious of yet another abrupt stop in her stride. 

“What’s got you so interested anyway?” She then asked, apprehension in her voice. 

“I was merely makin’ an observation.” George murmured, although smirked to himself, hoping that she wouldn’t turn around and catch him.

“If you say so.. anyway, this is me.” Vivienne tried to appear as aloof and unphased by George Bush as she could, and prayed to God that it was working. He terrified her in a way - as she always knew how she felt about a person after a first encounter, but when it came to him.. there was something hazy that she couldn’t put her finger on. “I’m just two doors down. Spooky that, huh?” He raised both of his brows, standing before Viv now. His hands had come to settle on his belt buckle - gold, engraved with his name and title, surrounding the state of Texas. She couldn’t help but look for a split second before her blue eyes came racing up, a little widened. Viv had to swallow the little lump forming in her throat before she nodded in humoured agreement, smiling briefly. 

“Well if I don’t see you again then have a good night. I might just come down to the bar later with a spare handkerchief though.” He chuckled, giving a confident, smooth wink before he headed toward his own room before she could stab back at him with a remark.

Bush - 1, Richards - 0. 

As she pushed the key into the door, she took a final glance in his direction, only to find him looking back. She turned the key as quickly as she could and slipped inside, before closing the door with haste. Her back soon found the wooden frame and slumped against it, several deep breaths being taken. Her cheeks were burning, her heart thumping, her stomach twisting.‘Pull yourself together, girl!’ Vivienne thought to herself in an attempt to calm the soaring butterflies in her chest. God knows what had gotten into her, but he was all that was occupying her mind now.. 

————

Her mother sounded just as tired as she had yesterday during the phone call. Viv got to speak to her younger sister today too, which had set her off crying when she heard that she was missed and that little Liza wanted to see her and give her a hug. In the end, Vivienne found herself too tired to go back down to the dining hall, so instead ordered a seafood pasta from the room service menu, accompanied with a glass of red, and put herself to bed at a reasonable time in the hope of getting a better night’s sleep than last night. 

Once again, however, all she could think about was Bush. How he smirked at her on the plane, how he held his belt in the hallway, how he practically ate her with his eyes. Viv wondered if it was all in her head, if she was making herself feel special. She knew that he was a married man and would not play foul, so whatever was in her head needed to leave, and soon, before she began to overthink it a little too much.. Although, it might just be too late for that as she buried her face in the pillow, revelling in the knowledge that he was two doors down. For a split second she had wanted to get up and seek him out, knowing that Laura Bush wouldn’t be around until next week, but the very thought was enough to startle Viv and cut that avenue short.

She needed sleep, not ridiculous fantasies…


End file.
